


Brooklyn's Here (to take care of his boyfriend)

by thnksfrthfnfc



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 04:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thnksfrthfnfc/pseuds/thnksfrthfnfc
Summary: Just because Race is sick, doesn't mean he can't do more than cuddle with his boyfriend.





	Brooklyn's Here (to take care of his boyfriend)

After a lengthy 9 hour shift at the theatre, Jack slammed the door to his and Race’s apartment and kicked his shoes off by the two other pairs at the door. The first pair were obviously Race’s, and he seen the second enough to recognize they belonged to his roommate’s boyfriend, Spot, who often spent time at their place. Jack tiredly ran a hand through his dark hair, noting the patch of paint lodged above his ear, and wandered into the living room where he heard the television was blaring; other than that, his abode was silent.

It was dark in the small living room, except for the the flashing images of some movie that Jack didn’t recognize. Standing in the doorway, Spot and Race’s entangled bodies on the couch came into view. Jack saw that they were lying together, Spot beneath him. It was a usual occurrence for the couple to cuddle. Jack coughed to announce his appearance, and Race lifted his head from where it was lying on Spot’s shoulder. 

“Hey, dude,” Race muttered. He sounded tired, his voice soft. Jack wondered if he was getting sick. Spot greeted him shortly before turning his attention back to the movie. Race continued, “Did you know we have absolutely no food in our kitchen?”

Spot nodded, “I was going to make him soup, but you guys didn’t have any.” He absentmindedly twisted his fingers through Race’s hair, and Race’s eyes fluttered shut at the feeling.

“You sick?” Jack asked. He glanced away from their affectionate touches to see what was happening in their movie. He thought the actor on screen was familiar, but he still couldn’t place him. Race shrugged, not looking at him. Out of Race’s sight, Spot nodded and rolled his eyes, indicating that Race was just unwilling to accept it. Jack laughed, and Race turned back to glare at his boyfriend. He leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss on Spot’slips, accidentally hitting his cheek as well.

“Well if I’m sick, then you are, too,” murmured Race before smirking. Spot rolled his eyes dramatically and wiped his lips of spit. To complete the moment, Race sneezed miserably into his elbow and sighed. “This sucks.” He looked at Jack who was still lingering at the entrance. “Hey, Jack. We’re out of tissues, too. You mind picking some up before you settle in for the night?” 

Jack frowned but sighed in acceptance, always ready to help his friends, “Soup and tissues. Anything else?” He brushed his hair back with his fingers and glanced between the two of them. Race looked pale, even in the dim light, and Jack was sure he’d be shivering if he wasn’t pressed up against Spot like he was. 

“Nyquil?” Spot spoke up. Race laid his head on his chest again, and Spot wrapped an arm around his waist, his fingers falling lightly against the bare skin between his shirt and sweatpants. 

“Alright. Text me if you need anything else, and try not to get your germs everywhere; I don’t got anyone to take care of me when I’m sick, like you.” Jack grumbled, almost bitterly. When the other two boys didn’t bother saying more, he stepped out of the room and started putting his shoes on once again. He shoved them on easily and was out the door just as quickly as he’d entered, now leaving the building.

Spot pressed a kiss to Race’s forehead, and Race shivered when his fingers traced circles on his waist. Spot could feel Race’s even breath under him, their chests synchronized. Race hummed and lifted his head to look Spot in the eyes. His cheeks were red, but he wasn’t sweating, so his fever wasn’t bad yet. Race hovered there for a moment before Spot met him halfway with a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. The second one was centered, and Spot felt Race’s tongue dart out. He smirked.

“The question is if making out with you is worth getting sick,” Spot mumbled. Race felt the vibrations of the noise in his chest. “I’ll admit that you still look really cute.” Race grinned at him and kissed him again. He pushed his weight down at his waist and was delighted at the velvety sound Spot made. 

“I think so,” Race said. Spot glared at him before gripping both of his hands on Race’s waist and moving him into a better straddling position. Race’s arms held him up with his hands on Spot’s shoulders as he slowly grinded down, testing the waters, and Spot’s hands ventured under his shirt, ghosting over his stomach. Race felt a thumb trace over his nipple and sucked in a breath. Spot easily removed the shirt, while Race lifted his arms to help, and his pale chest was exposed to the dim room. Spot lifted himself off the couch enough to press a kiss to his lower abdomen, just above his jeans. Race watched quietly and moved back when Spot motioned for him to. 

When Race was off of him and sitting at the other side of the couch, Spot crawled over to him and calmly tugged his sweatpants down. Unsurprisingly, Race wasn’t wearing underwear with them, so his dick was uncovered from the cotton material. He was still mostly soft, but Spot stroked him until it was half-hard in his hand. Spot kneeled on the couch to kiss Race again, their tongues twisting together, while Spot’s free hand cradled his cheek. Spot brushed Race’s hair back as he detached and kissed down his neck. His forehead was hot, and he felt the heat of his pulse under his lips as well.

“Spot,” murmured Race, his eyes falling closed. 

Spot nodded in acknowledgement and continued down to where Race’s erection was resting in his palm. He ran the pad of his thumb over the head as he kissed Race’s hips and the surrounding area, eventually coming to this dick. He licked the underside, mouthing at Race’s balls. Warmth spread in his stomach when Race reacted with breathy moans. Spot took the head past his lips, pulling off slowly before returning to the same depth a few times. When Spot finally took the length as far as he could, he shifted and felt the friction of his own erection against the couch. One of his hands cupped Race’s balls, while the other found its way to Spot’s groin, where his jeans restrained him uncomfortably. 

Spot pulled off and sat up to unbutton his pants, and Race reached out and eagerly helped him shove them down along with his boxers. As soon as his dick was out, Race’s hands were on it, his palm rubbing against it agonizingly slow. He smirked at Spot knowingly, and Spot just huffed and kissed him again, grinding his hips into Race’s grip. He gripped Race’s cock again and tried to match Race’s speed, but he was too shaky from Race’s teasing and knew he was going faster.

“If I finish early, you better not make fun of me,” Race whispered against Spot’s mouth. Spot pulled away and noticed how close Race was already. His breathing was short, and his hair was clinging to his forehead with sweat, and he gasped when Spot’s hand moved particularly rough. Race usually lasted longer, but Spot figured it was because of his cold, since they’d never done anything while the other was sick.

“Cum for me, Race,” coaxed Spot. He picked up his pace and noticed Race’s hand on his cock break momentum and eventually fall away as Race came. His head fell back, giving Spot better access to his neck, where he sucked a bruise as Race moaned out his name, stretching the single syllable. Spot felt cum on his hand as he jerked him through it, and he figured the majority of it was landing on Race’s chest.

“Fuck,” uttered Race after he’d caught his breath. He coughed, “I feel like shit.” He looked down at the mess on him and frowned. He traced his finger lightly through the sticky substance before pressing the tip into his mouth, his tongue licking it clean.

“You want to shower?” Spot asked. He leaned back, settling into a sitting position beside his boyfriend. His dick still stood red against his shirt, and Race eyed it once it was in direct view. 

“You didn’t finish, though.”

Spot shrugged, “You don’t feel well. I don’t mind.” If anything Race could make it up to him once he wasn’t sick anymore. “Let’s go.” Spot stood up and shoved his pants completely down, dropping them onto the floor by Race’s discarded shirt. His boxers fell down after them and pooled on the ground, allowing Spot to step out of them easily, and Spot yanked his shirt over his head and threw it down as well, before reaching a hand out for Race to take. Race took it unsteadily and stumbled to his feet, falling against Spot’s chest, and Spot helped him tug his sweatpants off as well. After they were bare, Spot wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulder and led them into the apartment’s bathroom, ignoring the cum Race transferred onto his own chest.

Spot closed the door behind them, and Race leaned against the counter as Spot turned the water on and let it warm up. Race looked at himself in the mirror and winced, realizing that he really did look sickly. If he didn’t have such a big ego, he’d be surprised that Spot had agreed to suck him off. Instead he just winked at himself tiredly and followed Spot into the steamy shower. Spot first wiped the cum off them before holding Race against him under the single stream of water. 

“I don’t like that you're still hard,” Race said, feeling Spot’s erection against his thigh. Before Spot could protest, he had a hand on it again and was stroking it. It wasn’t the best handjob he’d given Spot, but it was faster and a little rougher than before, and Spot was on edge after a few minutes. He kissed Race when he felt his orgasm coming, and they moaned into each other as he came, the substance being washed away quickly. “That’s better.” 

Spot wrapped his arms around him again and mumbled something incoherent to Race. They stood there until the water started going cold, and Spot dried them both off after getting out. He lead them to Race’s room, leaving the towel in the bathroom and hoping that Jack hadn’t returned while they were showering. The silence excluding the ending credits of their movie hinted that he hadn’t. Once in Race’s room, they both dressed in boxers and some of Race’s old shirts, the ones so worn that they were supremely soft. Spot ignored the hole in the one he put on, thinking it gave the shirt character, and the two boys climbed into Race’s bed, Spot wrapping himself around Race’s back and leaning his head against his neck, feeling the warmth he was giving off. Spot laid an arm across Race’s stomach and laid there until Race’s breathing steadied, suggesting his boyfriend had fallen asleep. He wondered when Jack would return, because they were definitely going to need the Nyquil and tissues the next day.

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing this so much?? which is weird because I usually don't enjoy the writing process yknow? 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this and it wasn't too uhhh out of character,, I just love affectionate sprace... Kudos and comments appreciated (aka feed my dying ego *eyes emoji*).


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